Bruiser: A Lonely Housewife Embarks on a Passionate Affair with an Alpha Male MMA Fighter (21 page)

Chapter Seventy

Brandon

“What the
fuck
was that?”

With a thump, Brandon felt himself thrown against the cinderblock wall of his dressing room by Rob Staavig.

Brandon was bruised, bloodied and exhausted – he certainly wasn’t in much of a position to defend himself.

“
That
,” Rob snapped again, pointing at Ava. “That kiss.” He took a dry gulp. “I-is there something
going on
between you two?”

“Robbie, please,” Ava tried to get between them.

“Yo, Rob, calm it down,” Vinnie placed a soothing hand on the Norwegian’s back, but Rob shrugged it off.

“That’s my friend’s
wife
,” Rob sneered into Brandon’s face – and when he realized how disingenuous that sounded, since he’d tried to sleep with her himself, he snapped, “She’s my ex-girlfriend, man.
Mine
.”

“Robbie,” Ava appealed again. “
Nothing’s
going on…” But when Rob wheeled around to look at her, she knew guilt was written all over her face.

Mercifully, there was a rap on the dressing room door, and the four of them had to adopt some semblance of respectability.

Vinnie opened the door, and a little grey-haired old man poked his head through. Brandon recognized him instantly – Taffy Evans, the trainer for James MacDonald.

“Hello, boyo,” the little Welshman grinned. “Good fight out there. My boy James was wondering if he could come in for a minute and chat.”

Brandon blinked.

“S-sure,” he shrugged. Anything was worth it to break the tension between him and Rob, he guessed.

The door opened and James MacDonald stood framed in the doorway – tall, and lean, and handsome. With his face washed and his hair combed, it would be difficult to believe he and Brandon had been brawling on the floor less than half an hour earlier.

“Evening, Bruiser,” MacDonald smiled charmingly, and offered Brandon his hand. The karate instructor took it – and the handshake was firm and dry.

“That was a good fight out there,” MacDonald nodded. “You nearly had me for a minute.” Then he snorted, shaking his head. “And that bullshit with the kiss? Not cool, old man – but I bet it’ll make for good reading tomorrow.”

Brandon’s lips curled at the thought.

“So, champ,” MacDonald asked. “How are you feeling?”

Brandon blinked. That was one hell of a question.

“I-I dunno,” he shrugged. “Kind of bummed.” He narrowed his eyes, studying MacDonald’s reaction. “But I can’t imagine you came here to ask me that.”

MacDonald’s lips curled.

“Nothing gets past you, does it, chief?”

He indicated the TV in the corner of the room, which was replaying Brandon’s post-fight interview.

“I heard about the school you run – how you were fighting to try and keep it open.”

“Yeah,” Brandon nodded. He looked down at his feet. “I guess I fucked that one up, didn’t I?”

MacDonald snorted.

“Maybe not.” Clicking his fingers, the Scotsman held out his hand expectantly, and Taffy Evans produced a checkbook and pen. “How much do you need?”

Chapter Seventy One

Brandon

Brandon blinked: “W-what?”

“How much do you need?” MacDonald asked. “To keep the school running?” He opened up his checkbook, and paused with the tip of the pen hovering above the paper.

“Y-you can’t be serious…”

“Why the fuck not?” MacDonald raised one eyebrow. “I mean, shit. I’m supposed to be the ‘good guy’ in MMA. How good can I be if I beat down some poor kid who’s only trying to keep his karate school open?”

Brandon’s mouth was dry.

“W-what is this? A loan? A gift?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” MacDonald replied. “It’s a tax write-off to me, and worth every penny according to the woman who does my PR.”

“You’re
serious
?”

“I’m dying of old age here,” MacDonald snapped. “How much?”

“Eleven thousand,” Brandon said softly.

“
Fifteen
thousand,” Ava quickly interjected. “Mr. Broderick there nearly forgot the commissions he owes me for recruiting new students.”

MacDonald shrugged. “A bargain, it sounds like.”

And then, with a flourish, he signed the check, tore it out of the book and passed it over.

Brandon’s hand was trembling as he took it.

“I’ll be around to visit in the next month or two,” MacDonald promised. “Try to get a TV crew there or something. I’m sure we could both do with the publicity.”

And then he was turning towards the door – as calmly and evenly as if he’d just popped in to wish Brandon a good evening.

But James MacDonald did pause in the doorway, and turned back to face his opponent once last time.

“Tell you what,” he smiled coolly. “In return for that donation, you can do something for me.”

Brandon looked up. “A-anything.”

“Keep fighting,” MacDonald demanded. “You’ve got guts and you’ve got talent, and this sport could do with somebody like you in it.”

And then he was gone, and Brandon was left open-mouthed, holding the check that would save his school.

Vinnie, Ava and Rob were similarly stunned.

Eventually, reluctantly, Rob broke the silence.

“Wait… Weren’t we arguing about something?”

Chapter Seventy Two

Ava

“My babies!”

Arms outstretched, Ava welcomed Lex and Harley as they came running down the stairs into her arms.

She’d only been away for two nights – but they were two of the most intense two nights she’d ever had in her life.

Hugging her kids close to her, Ava looked up as Clark welcomed her home.

He was acting decidedly frosty.

“Let me just say goodbye to Rob, and I’ll be in,” Ava promised, and ushered the two kids into the living room.

Clark stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, and said nothing.

Ava was concerned as she headed back outside, to where Rob was unloading her suitcase from the back of his gurgling Trans Am.

It had been an awkward two-hour drive back from Atlantic City. If Brandon kissing Ava hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, the clues of Ava’s affair with the handsome karate instructor soon became obvious.

“Why
him
?” Rob had asked, as they tore down the highway back home. “I mean, out of everybody… why
him
?”

Ava felt awful.

She’d sat in the leather passenger seat and practically squirmed as Rob had questioned her.

“How long has it been going on? Does Clark know? Do you love him?”

Sinking lower and lower into her seat, Ava had tried to explain herself to her ex-boyfriend; and everything she said sounded worse and worse.

The only saving grace was that Rob was merely jealous.

He’d been trying to sleep with Ava ever since he’d swaggered back into her life; and it seemed like he was more offended that she’d ended up fucking Brandon than her infidelity.

“He’s just a kid, Ava,” Rob had sneered. “And he’s broke…”

“He’s a
good
kid,” Ava had tried to justify herself. “And I wanted to help him.” She gulped dryly. “And, you know what? I think he ended up helping
me
.”

“I
bet
he did,” Rob scoffed.

But her ex-boyfriend had calmed down a little by the time they’d arrived back home.

As Rob pulled Ava’s suitcase from the trunk, he grabbed the small woman by her slender shoulders, and looked down deep into her big, brown eyes.

“Ava, I’m worried about you,” he breathed; intently aware that Clark was studying their interaction through the living room window.

“I’ll be fine,” Ava promised.

“Ava, I
love
you,” Rob warned. “Whatever happened between us, I’ve always loved you. You were my best friend, and you’re still one of the warmest, sweetest and kindest people I know.” He took a ragged breath. “I don’t want you fucking things up.”

“I-It’ll be fine,” Ava replied, feeling tears in her eyes.

“Well, you know where I am if you need me,” Rob promised. He shook his head. “Man, you really hit me out of left field with that one.” He snorted. “I mean, you’re a beautiful woman. I always knew it was going to happen. I just figured it was going to happen with
me
.”

Ava smiled at that one.

Standing up on tip-toes, she kissed Rob on the cheek, and breathed: “I love you too, Robbie. Now get the fuck out of here.”

And laughing bitterly, Rob did as he was asked – clambering behind the wheel of his Trans Am, and roaring off down the street with the wheels squealing.

Ava watched him go, and then took a deep and ragged breath.

Butterflies in her stomach, she turned and headed for the front door.

Chapter Seventy Three

Ava

“Anything you need to tell me, Ava?”

Clark had busied Lex and Harley with juice boxes and cartoons, and stood in the doorway of the living room, blocking Ava from escaping to be with them.

Ava let her suitcase drop to the floor and asked: “What’s wrong, Clark? You haven’t hugged me, or kissed me…”

Clark said nothing.

He just stood there, with his red face and frizzy hair, and stared at her expectantly.

Ava gulped. Something was wrong.

Eventually, Clark admitted it too.

“I saw what happened last night.”

From his pocket, Clark pulled his phone. Flicking it on, he handed it over – and Ava saw a screen-shot from the previous night’s TV coverage of the fight.

It showed a sweaty, bloody Brandon standing at the bottom of the steps of the MMA octagon – lips pressed hard against hers.

Ava felt her stomach flip.

“C-Clark,” Ava gulped. “I can explain. He was just…
emotional
. That didn’t mean anything…”

Clark snatched his phone back.

“You know what? I could have believed that,” Clark admitted. “I mean I
know
you. That’s the sort of silly thing you’d do. But…”

Ava blinked.

“But? What do you mean ‘but’? But…
what
?”

“You’d better come into the kitchen.”

Stomach churning, Ava followed her husband into the kitchen, the sounds of the kid’s cartoons fading into the background behind them.

As her heels clip-clopped onto the tiles in the kitchen, Ava rounded the corner and caught her breath.

They were not alone.

Sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of wine, was Mia Werber.

The skinny mom looked at as Ava entered, and a devilish smile spread across her lips.

“Why,
Ava Cassidy
,” she purred. “I was just sitting here having a nice glass of wine and a chat with your husband.”

Ava felt her mouth go dry.

“W-what are you doing here?”

Mia grinned.

“Funny you should ask that. Somebody from the karate center
very kindly
mailed my husband a pair of panties.” From a brown envelope on the table, Mia pulled the panties Ava had recklessly sent to Mike’s office. “I checked with your husband. They’re
your
size, I believe.”

Ava’s cheeks burned red.

“And since
you
decided to share with my husband that details of my little… ahem…
indiscretion
with Brandon, I thought I’d wait until you were back from Atlantic City and
return the favor
.”

Ava slumped limply against the refrigerator.

“Dear Clark now knows
everything
,” Mia said. “Don’t you, Clark?”

Ava turned to her husband.

Clark was ashen-faced, standing there wringing his hands together.

“I-is it true, Ava?” He asked. “Are you f-fucking Brandon?”

Ava opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

They didn’t need to.

Her silence told Clark everything he needed to know.

Ava’s husband blinked away the tears that were welling in his eyes. He took a ragged breath.

“I-I guess that answers my question,” he admitted.

“C-Clark,” Ava’s voice cracked. “Clark… I’m so sorry…”

Clark gulped. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“W-well, at least this is convenient,” her husband stammered, pointing towards the door. “Y-your suitcase is already packed.” A fat tear rolled down his cheek. “Now, do me a favor. I don’t want to lose it in front of the kids.”

He took a deep breath, and demanded, “
Get the fuck out of my house
.”

Ava stood there, bile rising in her gorge.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. All she could focus on was her husband’s ashen, tear-streaked face.

And that laugh.

She didn’t hear it at first. It was barely audible, like the humming of a cricket.

But as Ava stood there, she heard a soft, murmuring chuckle.

She turned at looked at Mia, as the long-haired housewife sipped from her glass of wine.

Mia was laughing at her.

She’d just walked into Ava’s life, and utterly destroyed it. And now Mia was chuckling softly and triumphantly about it.

Ava’s hands balled up into fists.

She didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t know where she was going to go. She only knew that she was going to make Mia Werber
pay
for what she’d done.

And that hot, angry stab of hatred was the only thing that gave Ava the strength to turn around, and walk out of the kitchen, and grab the handle of her suitcase.

A moment later the front door slammed shut behind her, and Ava walked down the driveway without a clue about who to call, or where to go.

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

Ava Cassidy couldn’t believe it. She’d just helped Brandon win the fight of a lifetime – but now it looked like she was about to face her own.

And right then? Right there?

She’d never felt weaker, or more alone in all her life.

Ava trudged miserably down the road – walking away from everything precious to her.

And as she went, only one thought sustained her:

She’d be back.

The End

(To Be Continued…)